Baptism stories...

Being born into the church with my parents having converted about three years prior to my conception, at the mature age of eight I was automatically deemed able to truly decide for myself whether or not I was willing to fully commit myself as a member. I admit at the time I wanted to, well, for the most part. I being a child with a gullible underdeveloped mind had no problem believing in Mormon magic and the like, so, sure. I was ready! Just one problem...I had an immense phobia of submerging my head underwater.

I don't recall what began they hysterical childhood phobia, but even before the age of eight it was well intact. So as you would suspect I had some severe issues about going through the baptism ceremony. Well, I sucked it up as best as I could and tried not to worry prior to the engagement. But soon enough the big night came and there were at least 50 or more people in attendance to watch the joyous occasion. I sat with my parents and the group during all the formalities and the Joseph Smith video they had already played for me far more times than I would have cared to see it. It ultimately came time to get to business.

I changed into the white garbs and got into the tub with my father. This is when I really started getting nervous. He said the prayer and as he first attempted to submerge me I broke into an almost violent defensive fit. I kicked, I screamed, I did anything necessary not to be put underwater. Needless to say, the audience was shocked. My father soon tried to state the prayer again and submerge me to which I put up even more resistance, fighting against it with all my strength.

This is when people became concerned.

They finally took me out of the tub and I faced my parents, the bishop, and another elder who tried in any way they could think of to persuade me to willingly go through with it. Didn't I know the terrible eternal consequences of NOT being baptized? That didn't matter to me. After a while I was scolded and told that if I loved my parents I would put up no more resistance. That only made me feel worse, but still not persuasive enough. This deliberation went on for nearly a full hour until in a fit of anger my father picked me up, carried me into the baptismal tub, and and slammed me into the water to complete the ceremony. Tragically, by this time they had already closed off the viewing area so no one got to watch it.

With that being done, I got to sit with the group again for the closing formalities. To say that I was looked upon strangely would be a great understatement. I remember years later an elderly woman telling my how she never heard a child swear at his baptism and she feared that Satan was using his power to keep me away from the water. That might sound nice poetically, but I just REALLY didn't want my head underwater.

With all that being said, does anyone else have a good baptism story to share?

Mine was very low-key, since it happened on a weeknight and due to family differences I only went to the LDS church a couple times a month. I remember feeling gypped since I didn't have the 'big' party afterwards like many of the other kids (does anyone else find that when a upteenth generation Mormon gets baptized it's not seen as highly as a converts?) and then when I didn't have the prophesy of the Holy Ghost afterwards, it only strengthened the thoughts I already had that the church was bullshit... though some may say my doubt was what stopped the Holy Ghost from penetrating my newly eight year old soul.

My own baptism was the stereotypical routine, no incidents. The baptism (attempt) of my oldest son was very similar to Noah's.
The water heater had gone out at the chapel so the font was filled with raw tap water (40 degrees). A boy and a girl went through with it before us, no complaints. Our turn was last. My son refused to get in the water. The officiating bishopric member tried to bribe him. My wife tried to threaten him. I told them both to stop; I was not going to have it on my conscience to have forced him into it. We didn't do it that day. My elderly mother had come for the event. We had a spat at home about how to respond to my son's behavior and she left in a huff for an eight hour drive back home. My son eventually agreed for a redo after the water heater was fixed several months later.

Overall, this was yet another step in my journey out. My two younger sons are not baptised since I left the church about the time my second, autistic son turned 8. They still called me trying to schedule his baptism. True Church Management .... by the numbers